Lyrics:
water (well, damn)
Comin' live from the hood like a news reporter (6)
Bling bling, Mr. S-O-I-C-Y (Y)
All the hoes jockin' Gucci Mane and I see why
careful lil nigga
All of my niggaz are plotting
You already dead lil nigga
Woo
Woo
I'm checking for synergy and energy
So, watch how you step to me,
there's a Heaven, you would think they'd let ya speak to your son
Maybe she has in the form of a baby's laugh
I heard passin' by in a stroller remindin'
that water with me
right after Mr.Martin's class (??)and me
straight to Barret think I was worried bout the trulency? please
got paid for them old
See he's a gangster, I'm a hustler
Yo it's either thank ya, or it's f*** ya
[Ice Cube + (Lil Jon)]
I'm down with Lil Jon ain't got to pretend
So what the fuck gotta say
Fuck Mr. Clynch coming' straight from the playground
Lil whore got it bad cause I'm brown
And not the other color so Chase
get a chance I'ma bust ya
No matter where, you could be in Russia I'ma touch ya
(Like that) Vocal assassin, motivated by cash
Shoot for the loot,
where, you could be in Russia I'ma touch ya
Vocal assassin, motivated by cash
Shoot for the loot, brownies and black mags
Don't stop, keep goin' don't
Mr. Rosenberg
No, I ain't no fuckin' dummy
Bitch, I'm Mr. Rosenberg
Mr. Rosenberg
Call me Mr. Rosenberg
Made fun of my last name 'til the cash came, Mr
Lil Wayne:
Yeah (take me out, take me out)
ok now it was me and Mrs. C
we was chillin by ourself
both of us just popped a pill
and now am feelin'
and Smif-N-Wessun
Pick up the pace 'cause we're right behind ya black
The punk got X-amount of shots, take one to your back
BOO-YAA-KAA!!! Mr. Ripper did
up
Had to disappear for a while
Shit got a lil' hot
Guess who’s back on the block
Mr big Stuff laid back in the cut
One hand on the burner one hand
Hopin' that it don't get shut
By these police makin' raids on those of us who know what's up
My lil' uzi weighs a ton, man, I truly ain't the one
My
six-one blockin' it
If y'all ridin' by, my nigga, we cockin' it
Poppin' on imposters, fake ass mobsters
East side niggas, ain't no stoppin' us
My recipe
featuring Blake see Jay Z Mr. Bristal
[Blake C]
What you sayin'?
Roc A Fella (uh huh)
Gener al (uh huh)
B.I.G. (right on)
to tha West
Well, Lyssa Brisna, in San Francisca
The cute lil sista, with the fever blista
Said that I dissed her, 'cause I wouldn't kiss her
But I got
by the pack might throw a pair or two
HD body so I sit back and stare at you
Movin' now, movin' now, lil mama movin' now
Bring the ladies to the front
Yeah, we back
Back in Muhammad crib, nigga, top floor
The back room with just the one little small window, nigga
The light be comin' through it in
lives are took
I can't see no difference from Mr. Hussein to Mr. Bush
Death and deception it's the brew the devil cooks
Dear Mr. President you had
Daz we about to fry niggas like fries
And separate them by five's and light up the skies
Crip that D P, Kurupt
Dippin' and I'm out, put a dick in
let no lil' bitch in, yeah, she get one night
I been rollin' off the E, yeah, I'm tryin' fight
She been lit, she off the Henny, yeah, she so enticed
like, ayy (Lil Boat)
I'm in this bitch like, ayy
I'm in his bitch like ayy
(His bitch, ayy, uh)
I'ma need me a minute before I walk in, ayy
I
the fuck you recordin' for, Nick Jr?
(The game ain't changed) It just got harder
Plus we sponsored by Laze, Dame Dash and Mr. S. Carter
Brownsville (yep),
a distance and they scopin' my neck
But these diamonds even cost me M-R and cars on my deck
And I can already vision people sayin I'm wrong
But I rather his
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